The only problem with that is that Mahina has been called into his office frequently.
And, well, not only is she a bright go-getter but she’s all sorts of gorgeous.
Native Hawaiian. Expert surfer (her ex was that Jason Momoa-looking guy).
And Kessler’s type with her being seventy-five-percent legs or whatever his Russian model ex was.
I shouldn’t be jealous. I’m fairly secure with myself. I know my good sides (hair, skin, face, waist, arms, booty) and my bad (undereye circles, cellulite, jiggly thunder thighs, boobs that could be bigger). And I really do love sex, which I’ve been told repeatedly is a great asset.
But even so, I’m thirty, Mahina is young(er) and, well, I guess there’s a tiny part of me that wants to keep Kessler’s roving eyes to myself.
Because the fact is, his eyes are roving. Every time he lays them on me, they never stay in one place very long, unless they’re soaking up my lips and attempting to hold my gaze. Otherwise they’re constantly running over me like hot flames licking out from a fire, burning my breasts and my waist and my hips and my thighs.
I close my eyes and breathe in sharply through my nose. I’m the problem now, not him. I need to get this runaway libido under control.
I briefly consider calling up Roger, or maybe another ex that hasn’t been tainted via Vegas hooker, when there’s a knock at my door.
“Come in,” I say.
It opens. It’s Mahina, her impossibly long dark hair swinging in her face. Ugh, I would kill to have my hair that shiny. “Aloha kakahiaka,” she greets me cheerfully. “How was your weekend?”
“Great,” I tell her. It wasn’t great. It was boring. “How was yours?”
“Same old. I was surfing at Sunset Beach, I should have stopped by your house and said hello. So, uh, Mr. Rocha would like to schedule a meeting with you.”
I give her a tired look. “When?”
“Now, I believe.”
“Where?”
“Right here is fine,” he says, suddenly appearing behind Mahina. “Thank you Mahina, I’ll take it from here.”
She gives him a sheepish smile that borders on high school crush and then scampers away to her desk down the hall.
“I guess we both share the same assistant now,” Kessler says, leaning against the door. It bothers me that he doesn’t look sweaty at all, as if being a sweat monster was his one weakness. Oh who am I kidding, seeing that sweat drip off of him only brought memories of our slick bodies tangled beneath the sheets.
“She’s my assistant,” I manage to say.
“Actually, according to Desiree, she was also Mike’s assistant. Oh wait, no.” He taps his fingers against his manly chin in false contemplation. “Desiree said that you were essentially Mike’s assistant. But I told her you were more qualified than that.”
I swallow down my pride in a bitter pill. “Thank you.”
“So anyway, I need to talk to you.”
“Is this about our weekly meeting?”
“Weekly meeting? No.” He steps in and shuts the door behind him and then strolls over to the chair across from my desk and takes a seat. “I need to talk to you about something urgent.”
I frown, my heart picking up the beat. “What?”
He gives me a shy grin, the type of grin that makes the dimples pop on his scruffy cheeks. He doesn’t have a Hawaiian tan yet, but once he does, he’s going to get pretty dark thanks to that Portuguese blood of his and those teal eyes are going to pop even more. Maybe that’s half the reason why my body turns to goo around him, his eyes are my favorite color in the whole world.
“I need to ask you a favor.”
I stare at him. Worried. I hate favors. “What favor?”
He chews on his lip for a moment. “We have a leprechaun problem.”
I blink. “…Leprechaun?”
“Cockroaches,” he elaborates.
There’s that word cock again.
“Is that what you call cockroaches in the Yukon?” Fucking Canadians.
“No, it’s what Hunter calls them,” he says. “Point is, we have a cockroach problem. The whole house has been invaded.”
I shudder, scrunching up my face. “Ew.”
“Yeah, that’s putting it mildly. Hunter’s been afraid of leprechauns since we got here and I only realized on Friday when he put a fucking dead roach in my hand just what his version of leprechauns were. Let me tell you, it was scarier than the Leprechaun movie.”
“That wasn’t scary,” I tell him.
“That’s because you don’t find any movies scary,” he says.
I shrug. “I don’t know, the real-life horror show of a cockroach infestation sounds much worse.”
“It is. I thought maybe it was just the bathroom so me and Loan got to setting traps—”
“Who is Loan?” That weird jealousy spear is poking me again.
“The nanny,” he says. “She’s Vietnamese. Quiet, except at odd times. She’s a good egg though, Mike set it up.”
“The same Mike that gave you this job and then put you in his cockroach-infested house?”
“That’s the same one. I don’t know how he’s been living there but…” he trails off and now it’s time for him to shudder. “Anyway, either Mike is a giant slob or he’s been blinded because of that porn star, but either way, the house is infested from top to bottom. The traps don’t work and we can’t do much more because of Hunter. I think he’s picking up some sort of asthmatic response to them too.”
“Shit.”
“Speaking of shit, have you seen cockroach shit? Looks like coffee grounds. That’s what I fucking thought it was, like Loan was just messy with the Starbucks blend in the morning but oh no no no.”
“So…”
“So I spent the weekend trying to figure out what to do. When I realized it was a losing battle, I called the exterminators. They came by yesterday and took a look around. The main guy was a real Clint Eastwood when it came to cockroaches. He said it would take three nights, maybe more. Fumigation started today.”
Oh god. Please don’t let this go where I think it’s going.
He continues, his brows raised in a pleading way that makes my heart sink. “I looked at hotels but because it’s me, Hunter, and Loan, one room just wouldn’t work, and because it’s the holiday season now, almost everything is booked up except for places on Waikiki charging three grand a night. Then I asked around the office and the only offer I got was from Teef but I don’t feel like living with ten of his cousins. Then everyone mentioned that you had a large house all to yourself…”
Fuck.
I knew this would bite me in the ass one day.
When I first moved to Honolulu, I was in a tiny one-bedroom studio in Pearl City for six months. I was working hard and barely had time for the fact that I was in Hawaii of all places. I finally made my way out to the North Shore, courtesy of Teef who took pity on me and needed to show me what was so great about Oahu.
I fell in love.
It felt so different from Honolulu and the south shore. The north shore was wild and lush and uncontained and free. The beaches were empty, the surf was loud, and the waves were behemoths that made me shake even standing on the shore. It was so green it hurt my eyes and the flowers that sprouted off the power lines were a sign that nature was just a misstep away from taking over civilization.
It spoke to my soul, my spirit. For the first time since coming to Hawaii, I understood what Aloha was.
It was love.
I had to move there immediately.
I found a room in a large plantation house in Hale’iwa that needed fixing up. I started out having three roommates. As time went on, I started working on the house in my spare time. Eventually the owner wanted to sell and I put in the first offer. Because I’d already put so much of my own spirit into the place, he agreed to sell it to me.
It wasn’t cheap but I’d just moved up into my current position and the bank approved me and the rest was history. I h
ad a roommate, Cinthia, to help along with the mortgage until last year, and since then I’ve been alone.
So, Kessler isn’t mistaken in that I do have a large house with lots of room. But it’s the kind of room I was hoping my parents would take me up on.
Not the man sitting across from me.
But I’m also not a heartless wench, even if I feel like I am sometimes. He’s obviously in a tough spot, plus he has his son and nanny to worry about. To be honest, I’m really curious about Hunter. I wonder how much of him looks like Kessler, how much the Russian model. Does he have Kessler’s eyes? His olive skin tone? Has he picked up on the funny way he pronounces things sometimes?
“You want to move in with me?” I ask.
He bites on his lip and I ignore the urge to do the same. “If it’s not too much trouble. Just for three nights. That’s the estimate the roach guy gave me anyway. We can even carpool in the morning. It will be fun.”
I cock my head, brows to the heavens. Fun? Are you serious?
Kessler ignores that look. “So you’re okay with this?”
I sigh and lean back in my chair. “Of course I’m okay with it. As long as you don’t mind living out on the north shore for a few days. Believe me, it’s miles from Honolulu.”
“I haven’t been yet but I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”
The way he says beautiful, the way his eyes hold mine, fire intensifying in them, sends shivers down my spine that I try desperately to hide.
“Okay well…” I say.
“After work today we can move everything over,” he says. “We don’t have much stuff as it is. And don’t worry about Hunter. I mean, he’s a toddler so he’s half-angel, half-fiendish troll, but he’s a pretty good kid if I do say so myself. And Loan just keeps to herself, you won’t even know she’s there.”
I nod, swallowing. “Okay then. Then it’s settled.”
He grins at me. “I won’t forget this,” he says, as if it’s going to buy me some favor in the future.
How about you give me your job in exchange, I think, even though I’m giving him a fake smile.
I keep it plastered on my face until he leaves.
* * *
Instead of heading straight home after work like I usually do on a Monday, I drive to Mike’s house where Kessler proceeds to get all his shit out of the house. Because of the evening downpour that rolls around like clockwork this time of year, I sit in my car and watch through the rain-soaked windshield. I could have just told them to meet me at the house but figured an escort was a more personal way of moving.
Besides, it looks horrid. The exterminators have already put up tents around half the house, so when Kessler starts bringing out his luggage, it looks like they’re fleeing a post-apocalyptic scene.
It isn’t until a slender women—who I assume is Loan—holding a child in her arms—who I assume is Hunter—comes out do I see the dilemma. Kessler’s fancy sports car isn’t enough for everyone.
Eventually the bags get moved into my trunk and then I get Loan as my passenger.
“Hello,” I say to her as she shuts the door, shaking the rain out of her hair.
“Hello,” she says to me curtly, giving me the once over before putting on her seatbelt.
Okay, so Kessler never quite told me how much English Loan knows. I never had a nanny growing up, but a girl across the street did, a Swedish one that her father eventually ended up banging according to my mother, and she didn’t speak a word of English.
I’m pretty awkward with small talk so I don’t say anything while I drive out of the hills and to the freeway, turning up the music on the radio. You don’t hear Jack Johnson here as much as you think you would but I figure he’s pretty good for putting people in a relaxed mood. I mean, who can be angry when you’re thinking about banana pancakes?
It isn’t until we’ve crested the mountains and started heading down towards the north shore that Loan turns to me. “Do you have Wi-Fi?”
I stare at her for a moment before looking back to the road.
“Do I have Wi-Fi?”
“At the house.”
“Of course. Five G.”
She nods. “Okay. Good signal?”
“As good as it gets out there,” I tell her. “Why, are you a video gamer?”
I swear I see a touch of a smile on her lips. “No. I like to Facetime my boy.”
“You have a son?”
She nods, staring out the rain-streaked window. “Yes. Hai is my son. And my husband is Binh. In English their names are Ocean and Peaceful.”
“That’s lovely. I had no idea. So where are they, in Vietnam?”
She nods. “In Hanoi. Binh owns a restaurant. My mother looks after Hai. I’m just here for a few years to help bring in some money. It’s better this way than for me to stay there. This way I only have to work a little and I’ll bring in the same amount as if I worked a lot there.”
“How old is Hai?”
“He’s thirteen now,” she says. “I’ll go back for good when he’s sixteen. I still visit every year. Once he came here, he loved it.”
“That must be hard to leave them for so long.”
She shrugs a shoulder. “It is hard but it must be done and so I do it. It’s how you get through it.”
She doesn’t say anything after that, but she doesn’t need to. Her words had so much conviction in them it was hard for me not to ruminate on them for the rest of the drive.
Finally, we pull up to the house.
No surprise, the place is painted a dark teal, though you can’t tell that from the faint light of the road. It’s large, slightly raised above ground with a sprawling porch and a copious amount of Ti bushes and bamboo along the edges of the property that I keep between tamed and unruly. I’m about four blocks from the shore, so if the night is calm and you listen hard, you can hear the famously powerful surf.
Tonight though, it’s raining. It’s often raining here, hence why it’s so lush and green, and in a way it reminds me of home.
With Kessler parking behind me in the driveway, we make quick work of getting everything inside, even though we all get soaked in the end.
It’s only then that I finally get my first proper look at Hunter.
The boy is gorgeous. Gorgeous in a way that makes my heart ache.
I briefly have flashes of Kess and I together, the times that he was so tender and attentive with me, the way he made me feel like I was the only person in the world. It was during those times that my mind and heart ran away with me. Where I started to wonder, what would it be like to marry him? To have his children? Where would we live, what would our children be like?
I pictured them with a lot of me, of course, maybe curly black hair and bronzed skin and full lips. I also pictured them with blue eyes, maybe green, and a strong jaw. There were a million variations of all the could-have-beens running through my head.
And yet seeing Hunter standing before me, his actual son, I’m totally floored because even though he’s not my child and Kessler is totally new at this parenting thing, I see a product of my imagination come to life, just a million times more beautiful.
Hunter must take after his mother when it comes to the color of his sandy blonde hair and pale skin, but his curly waves, his light eyes and dark brow are totally Kessler. Even though he looks a bit shell-shocked to be where we are, in a totally strange and foreign house, adorably clutching a Kahuna Hotels pineapple stress-ball to his chest, he looks like he’s ready to laugh at any second.
That’s pure Kessler. And when I glance up at Kess, who has been watching me carefully as I take in his son, I know my approval means something.
“Hey Hunter,” I say to him, crouching down to his level. “We haven’t officially met yet. I’m Nova. This is my house that you’re going to be staying in for a few days while those nasty cockroaches are cleaned up.”
“Leprechauns,” he corrects me. “They live at the bottom of the rainbow.”
“Or the bottom of the toile
t bowl,” Kessler says. “Either one. Should we find you your room, buddy?” He glances at me for guidance.
“Of course,” I say, walking down the hall. “There’s one guest bedroom down there,” I say, looking at Loan. “You could use that if you want. It has a nice view of the mountains in the back and there’s the bathroom right here. On the other side is this room I use as a study but there’s a really comfy pull-out couch in there that might be good for Hunter.”
Loan nods and takes Hunter’s hand, leading him to the rooms for his approval.
“And where am I staying?” Kessler asks in a low voice. “In your room?”
I give him a withering glance. “Yeah right. Of all things to not forget right now, let’s not forget you’re my boss.”
“I can forget if you can,” he says, wagging his brows.
I reach out and slap him across the chest. “Hey. I’m serious. I didn’t help you out for any other reason than I’m a good person and I felt sorry for your son and your nanny. Both of whom have to put up with you now on a daily basis. So, if you’re going to test your luck in any sort of way with me, I’m going to kick your ass to the curb. The others can stay.”
He stares at me in challenge and I know from the way his eyes search mine that he’s looking for some sort of weakness in me, some way he can come out on top. But the fact is, he no longer has the upper hand. He’s currently homeless and I’m his helping hand. Actually, it probably pisses him off in some way, having to depend on me like this.
I can’t help but smile.
“Uh oh,” he says, leaning in close as he frowns at me. “I don’t like that smile. I know that smile. That smile has rarely led to anything good.”
I raise a brow. “Just behave yourself, okay there, sweat monster?”
“Sweat monster?”
I nod at his forehead which is already glistening. “Sorry, I forgot to mention I only have AC in my bedroom.”
“And I’m not sleeping there.”
Nothing Personal: A Romantic Comedy Page 6
